


Memories Get Erased

by Aaydence



Category: Be More Chill, Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be more chill musical
Genre: Amnesia, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Be More Chill - Freeform, Coma, Fluff and Angst, Michael Mell - Freeform, Platonic Relationships, Temporary Amnesia, The Squip - Freeform, This Takes Place After "The Play" and Before "Voices In My Head", boyf_riends, forget, jeremy heere - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-10-31 03:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaydence/pseuds/Aaydence
Summary: “Mike-” he started before another blood-curdling scream escaped from his throat, slowly dulling into a whimper. The boy suddenly took on a pale look, as if he'd been painted with white-wash - even his lips were barely there. Then with one step backward he crumpled like a puppet suddenly released of their strings, landing in a heap on the wooden stage.





	1. The Waiting Game

The sound ripped through the student's throats. Agonizing and loud. It was the kind of scream that made your blood run cold. It pierced the brain and ignited some primeval pathway. Adrenaline surged through his veins, fight or flight, stand or run, be a hero or a coward. The students dropped, one by one until only one was left standing. His face was ashen, his once bright green eyes were dulled with the excruciating pain circling through him. Searing fiery bursts pulsated around his body, intensifying with each dragging step, jarring and brutal. With each step the pain amplified, his face cursed with a grimace, as he walked slowly towards Michael. The Filipino could only watch helplessly as his friend looked at him, scared and eyes filled with pain. His caramel, wavy curls brushed just out of his eyes, were damp with sweat.  
“Mike-” he started before another blood-curdling scream escaped from his throat, slowly dulling into a whimper. The boy suddenly took on a pale look, as if he'd been painted with white-wash - even his lips were barely there. Then with one step backward he crumpled like a puppet suddenly released of their strings, landing in a heap on the wooden stage.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A picture of a beach was sprawled on each wall, each depicting beautiful scenery: rolling waves on idyllic sand. Across from Michael was a tiny black wooden coffee table holding health magazines. Underneath it was a dull gray carpet that covered the whole room. A television hung in one corner displaying boring commercials. He was too anxious to read any of the magazines or watch TV, so he just tapped his foot impatiently, his eyes never leaving the door.  
After an endless session of pacing the dull carpeted floor, Michael managed to sit himself down on one of the monotonously gray waiting chairs pedantically aligned along the bare white walls of the corridor, just outside of the original waiting room. A bulb hanging from the ceiling bathed the windowless corridor with ivory-yellow light. Sitting on the edge of the chair, he placed his hands on his knees with the intention to stop them from bouncing every five seconds. Michael’s eyes fell on the discoloring, sand colored water dispenser placed in the corner of the corridor, next to an artificial plant full of faux, olive green leaves. He was extremely parched after refusing to eat or drink any edible substance for the past three hours. He walked over to the water fountain and picked up a worn out disposable cup to which he mixed hot and cold water in order to drink. Michael quickly gulped down the water, producing a sound similar to that made by the water dispenser itself, and licked his dry lips. He crushed the frail plastic cup in his hand and threw it in the bin. He walked back over to the seat and sat down, yet again, on the edge of the chair and resumed his tiresome wait for the steel handle of the hospital room’s door to open.  
Michael stared at the blank white wall in front of him. He felt the tension and anxiety build up inside as he stared blankly, his mind full of emptiness. Before the panic could eat the Filipino alive, he managed to catch up on subtle breathing exercises to help himself relax. Just as he regained his steady heartbeat by breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth, he could hear the familiar continual tap of a heel against the floor and his pulse rate shot up once again, upon realizing what was nearing. While Michael desperately tried to regain his normal state, he saw the woman peering at him and tapping her clipboard simultaneously.  
“Michael Mell?” The woman questioned. She had dark, curly, brunette hair that reached down to her shoulders. Her olive skin reflected the little light that the bulb had shown off and she stared at him, with curious hazel eyes. “Yeah,” Michael said standing up rather quickly, “That’s me!” The woman hummed softly, “You’re here for Jeremy Heere? Aren’t you?” In normal circumstances, Michael would have giggled at the irony of Jeremy’s last name and the phrasing of her statement, but instead just nodded, not even cracking a smile. “Hmm, are you family?” the woman questioned glancing at her clipboard, “I mean, you share no last name resemblance, but um…” Michael stared at her, “No, I’m just a friend, I mean we’re close so, I guess we could be considered family.” The brunette, nodded, “Well Jeremy’s stable now, but…” she paused, as she was unsure what to say next. She glanced around the hall nervously, not looking Michael in the eye. Michael felt his heart drop, and his stomach churn...something didn’t feel right. The secretary looked up, her hazel eyes meeting his brown ones. “Jeremy Heere is in a coma..”


	2. Jeremy in the Hospital

Michael reeled back as if the words were spat from her mouth like hot fire. Instinctively, he reached up and touched his cheek. He could feel the blood drain from his face, as a pulsation began to swim in his ears. The room began to grow increasingly dimmer and the walls seemed close in as if to envelope them all. The grief came in waves and threatened to consume him entirely. He felt his breathing quicken as he begins to hyperventilate. An invisible hand clasped over Michael’s mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierces his heart, unloading in an instant. He felt his ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate his lungs. Michael’s head was a carousel of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing his mind into blackness. Michael wanted to run; but all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut, as hot tears pricked the corner of his eyes. 

He felt a warm hand lay on his shoulder and he flinched at the sudden touch. The hand squeezed his shoulder as if to ground him as he let out shuttered sobs. “Hey, breathe, alright? Can you do that for me?” It was the woman, she spoke softly and kindly as a mother would to her child. Her voice sweet; just above a whisper, “Just breathe honey, it would be alright.” Her sweet voice and kind gestures let his emotions give way. He let out a strangled sob and covered his face with his red jacket, tears spilling over his eyes. He suddenly felt arms wrap around him, in a secure hug. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close, his nails digging into her shirt. Despite the heaviness in his heart, he sunk into the warmth of her side, appreciative of the simple gesture from this kind stranger as he sobbed. Her touch made the room warmer somehow, the hospital walls seeming a little less bleak. He suddenly let go, apologetic and wiped the remaining tears. The woman gave him a warm smile, her eyes crinkled with the seemingly sad smile, which made her look older. She was probably in her late thirties but somehow looked younger despite the age in her eyes. “Would you like to visit your friend?”

Nothing could prepare Michael of what he would see when he walked in. Jeremy laid in the bleach tinctured ward on the crisp but thinning sheets. A curtain hangs limply on the chrome railing, looking like it’s been washed a thousand times. His face was covered with an oxygen mask, and IV’s and needles pierced into his arm; their tubes snaked over his body and onto the bedside where they were hooked to a machine. His face was still ashen, almost as white as the bedsheets he was in, under his eyes were dark purple circles that made it look as he’s been up for days and perhaps he has been. Jeremy’s lips were chapped and pale and he looked, oh so small in the bed frame.  
“Oh, Bud” the words slipped from Michael’s lips, breaking the silence of the room. “I-I’ll leave you alone,” she said, as she started to close the door. “Wait!” Michael cried as he caught the door before it closed, “I need to know your name!” The women smiled and simply said “Danielle” as she closed the door, leaving Michael in the oh too quiet room, alone with the hum of the machines.  
“He looks pretty bad, huh?” a lisped voice spoke from behind him. Michael spun around, facing the voice. On the hospital bed laid a boy dressed in a full white body cast, his arm suspended in the air to heal what seemed to be a broken arm. Michael stared at the boy, his hair was tan with a red streak going through, and the boy grinned back at him, a gap shone between his teeth. “Hi Rich,” Michael greeted, his voice strained and raspy. “Jeremy isn’t looking so good, huh?” Michael visibly flinched, for Rich hardly called Jeremy by his first name. “No, no he’s not” Michael glanced at his friend. “Do you know when he’s going to wake up, or even if he will ever wake up?…I mean-” Rich suddenly was startled by Michael banging his fist against the wall, with a swift bang as it echoed through the small hospital room. “He will wake up! He has to!” Michael growled in a low voice. Michael wiped tears he wasn’t aware that were dripping down his face, taking off his glasses. Rich’s expression softened, “Hey, Mike. It’ll be ok. You two will get through this. You always have! Jer’s a tough kid, he’ll be ok!” Michael stifled a sob, “I was supposed to be there, I’m his best friend, I was supposed to protect him!” his voice crackled. “You were there!” Rich argued back, “You stopped the SQUIP! You saved Jeremy! You saved me!” Rich tapped his head and grinned, “No more voices telling me what to do!”  
Michael nodded solemnly, “Thank’s Rich” and walked over to the empty blue chair and sat in it at Jeremy’s bedside. He grasped Jeremy’s hand, which was cold, and squeezed it tightly with a million thoughts racing through his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapters! They'll get longer I promise! Oh and to make up for lost time, I'll be posting to this story more often! There's still a lot more to come!! Please leave a comment and guess what'll happen next!


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